


Let's go where the music takes us

by withowlmyheart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dancer Oikawa Tooru, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Musician Iwaizumi Hajime, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 04:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20270080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withowlmyheart/pseuds/withowlmyheart
Summary: Oikawa is a dancer who has lost his magic. Iwaizumi a street violinist who plays only for himself.They just got one thing in common: the music. But it will be enough to put them together.





	Let's go where the music takes us

Dance is a passion. Oikawa understood it at the age of three, when he entered his first dance academy. The music flowing through his body, boosting it, and creating a wonderful choreography that manages to convey countless feelings. The emotions you cannot express with words, the body is able to achieve it with the right melody. The youngest son of the Oikawa family felt in love with that harmony and consecrated his childhood, adolescence and part of his adult life to dance. His life became a choreography. If he was careful, following the music, his life flowed perfectly. At twelve his name was known among the most fanatics in the world of dance. At sixteen he received an invitation to the most prestigious academy in the country. At eighteen he starred The Nutcracker with a perfect criticism. A prodigy, called him the critics.

However, one day the music stopped. During one of the practices his ankle did not resist and twisted with a sound that left no one indifferent. Everyone came when they found the dancer on the floor groaning in pain. Oikawa's head doesn't remember much of those moments. An ambulance, the x-rays, a foreign doctor telling him that he should leave the dance for at least one year.

The worst twelve months of Oikawa's life. His dreams cracked and he couldn't stop blaming himself no matter how much everyone said it was an accident. No. If he had been better, more careful, the injury would have been avoided. He would continue to dance, music would continue to guide him. Because, as soon as the musical notes disappeared, the road fell silent and Oikawa was lost. Where should he go next? How did he live without dance? Anxiety became his daily life, enduring depression with pills. He spent days locked in his room with his leg up, hitting the walls and, when that was not enough, he did it with himself.

However, Oikawa's saddest song began to play when doctors gave him the news he most wanted to hear: he could dance again. Happiness must have been permanent. Sadness was supposed not to reproduce again. Oikawa had changed the playlist.

But the world seemed to want to play with him a little more. When Oikawa stepped on the academy again, he realized that his body no longer moved as he wanted. Yes, his technique recovered and his accuracy was the same as always with a couple of months. However, that prodigy that the critics praised had died. Oikawa's body was no longer liquid, it was not part of the melody. They were no longer one. Now it was simply a song and its dancer. Oikawa lost the rhythm.

Despite this, the academy still loved him, critics filled him with praise, but his adjectives were increasingly vague. More like ordinary people. It was still excellent, but it was close to the mediocrity. Frustration shook him harder than when he spent a year in bed unable to dance. Because pain was more intense. Why did they give him the opportunity to dance again but took away his gift? Oikawa was not the same and everyone noticed. He did not leave home unless it was for his daily dance practice, and when he returned he did so without his usual smile. He locked himself in his room with the blinds down, the bed undone for days, and no music. Oikawa had not heard any song since his inspiration was lost. He hated music. He hated the world. The dancer didn't even cry anymore, because he didn't feel sad. The only thing that occupied his body was emptiness. Absolute. Neither happiness nor sadness. He was dead in life. First an injury snatched his passion, and then, when they returned him the possibility, they took away the tune. And how could a song work without harmony?

"Oikawa," Matsukawa, one of his academy classmates, interrupted him one day. One of the few people who were always there for him, "you can't go on like this. Why don't you go to a specialist?"

The one with brown hair let out a sarcastic laugh and hid his head again on the pillow.

"I have visited all the specialists in Japan and they do not tell me more that it is a matter of motivation. I'm sick of it! I don't need to be told what it is, I need a damn solution."

"I didn't mean that kind of doctors. I'm talking about a... you know, a psychologist. I know a good one and he could see you today, this afternoon, if you want." Silence. Matsukawa sighed and got up. He picked up the clothes that Oikawa had lying on the floor for days. "You should assume that maybe your problem has no solution, no matter how much you dance. Maybe you have lost your magical moves. And to accept it you will need someone who can help you. Really, I mean. Neither Hanamaki nor I can do more than be there for you. And it's frustrating, you know? See how someone you care about keeps plunging more and more into a depression... And your parents don't know what to do either. Why don't you try, Oikawa? Do you think it will hurt you more? Who knows... Maybe you will get better."

As much as Oikawa hated to feel pity in his friend’s eyes, he was fully aware it was the only feeling he gave off. His family cried for him. His friends treated him like glass. Only Hanamaki and Matsukawa sometimes slapped him with a dose of reality.

When his friend left the room he sat up. His formerly perfectly combed hair was now a cloud of almond strands without direction. He reached out and took the card that Matsukawa had left him. A direction, a name, and an hour: seven, that afternoon. He looked at his mobile phone. He ignored the missed messages and calls and only noticed the time: there were three left until the appointment. He sighed and sank his head back into his pillow.

✦─────────── • ✧

Spring had come soon. Or perhaps it was that Oikawa didn’t come out often and, when he did, he was too much in himself to realize what was going on around him. But that day he noticed something different. The sun was warmer. Its rays caressed his pale cheeks and he raised his head, running into a sky without a single cloud. A gentle breeze combed his hair and he wrinkled his nose when the perfume of lavender and vanilla flooded his nostrils. He was immediately attracted to the sweet and peculiar aroma. But Oikawa was fascinated by its sweetness. The sweeter the better, he used to say.

He left the main street and entered an alley that he had never visited before. The perfume became more intense. It took him to a small park he hadn't even heard of. It was hidden, like a diamond at the bottom of a bag of stones. The trees hid much of the park so, to see what was being threatened, he had to enter.

The radiant sun was dimmed by the leaves of the trees that served as a filter, letting only part of the light pass through. The park floor was a kaleidoscope of lights and shadows that moved to the sound of the wind that rocked the trees. Oikawa discovered the lavender origin: the park was full of it. And vanilla... He closed his eyes and sniffed. It was everywhere! It was not coming from anywhere. It seemed as if it was the essence of the park.

And he heard it.

It was like a dream. Oikawa, in fact, wondered if it was not an illusion.

The whisper of a violin came to him, subtle but firm. A melody he had never heard in his life. Before he realized where he was going, they guided him to the place where such a sound came from.

The music grew louder and his heartbeat accelerated. He ended up running. He crossed the park until he reached a hidden corner of the view of the passers-by. Hidden, a boy (Oikawa thought he was around his age) was standing playing the violin. A group of children watched him sitting with real devotion. His eyes did not lose a single of his movements and Oikawa was surprised to do the same. The elegance with which he moved his arms and the precision with which he played each note was electrifying. It contrasted with his appearance. If Oikawa had seen that boy in the academy, he would have thought it was a hip hop dancer, not a violinist. His hair combed slightly upwards, his rough gaze. And even more his toned body, guessed thanks to the tight shirt he wore. Oikawa would define him as a rock melody, or punk rock. However, with that violin in his hands, the great musicians of history were the ones who best fit him.

He took a step. And then another. When he wanted to realize it was already too late. His body was driven by the young man's music and flowed without choreography. The children exclaimed an "oh" by witnessing the harmony created between a perfect melody and a dancer who felt every note. Oikawa did not dance. Oikawa felt the violinist's song. He understood what each note said and he represented it with his body. The violinist wrote the lyrics and Oikawa sang it.

Oikawa did not know how long he was dancing there, but at some point the music stopped and so did his body. Applause erupted and the realization shook him at once when he realized that the six children who had been there at the beginning became a dozen who had even recorded it. The dancer put his hand to his chest, unable to believe he had recovered the magic. That dance without any choreography had been the best of his life. The violinist stood next to him and they both bowed respectfully to their impromptu audience.

They spent more than half an hour answering questions from the spectators, who could not believe that it was a spontaneous session for both the musician and the dancer. Oikawa signed some autographs when they recognized his name and took pictures with the little ones and some girls who asked for it.

When people dispersed, he noticed that the musician had already collected his things and left on the opposite side from which he had arrived. Oikawa ran after him. He couldn't let the boy who had given him the best song of his life disappear without even a few words!

"Wait!" He shouted, but the opposite did not stop.

Oikawa ran more briskly and finally reached him. The stranger removed his headset and raised both eyebrows. He seemed surprised that Oikawa spoke to him.

"That has been incredible." He said after catching his breath. Oikawa was not to praise directly, but this time it came from within. "The song. The passion with which you play it. It was... magical."

"Well. I guess it's a great compliment if it comes from you." Replied the violinist without altering.

"What do you mean?"

The musician let the case where he kept the violin slide down his shoulder. "You are Oikawa Tōru, right? The famous dancer. I do not live in a cave."

"Do you know me?"

The musician nodded and started walking, but this time at a slower pace. He imagined Oikawa would follow him and that was what he did.

"Any musician who moves on dance circles knows you."

Oikawa wouldn't deny that it made his chest swell with pride. That the boy who had captivated him with his piece recognized his talent was a point for him.

"So… We are not in equal conditions then. I do not know your name."

"Iwaizumi Hajime."

There it was. The name of the boy who had turned a violin into a magical instrument and guided his body through the most exotic piece ever played; At least for Oikawa.

"So... Iwa..."

"Iwa?" The aforementioned frowned, but Oikawa continued as if he had not heard him.

"Are you in the conservatory? Or in any orchestra?" Oikawa had no idea where they were going. That part of the city was completely unknown. He was used to moving in select environments. Where they were going was the opposite so he felt completely lost.

Iwaizumi stopped and the dancer imitated him, turning around to see him.

"No." He replied dryly and resumed his march. "I play for myself and, if anyone wants to listen, it's welcome. I won’t imitate other artists and spend ten years studying. I just want to compose my own music."

"But you said any musician in..."

"I said anyone who wanted to do it would know you." Iwaizumi reminded him. He stood in front of a tiny cafeteria with a completely white facade and windows decorated with the same lavender Oikawa saw in the park. The musician entered and Oikawa followed him. "It is my father’s work, that is why I know you. But don't be confused, I'm not a fan of yours. Although I recognize that your way of dancing before has been... good."

The musician's words telling him that he was not his fan affected Oikawa so much that he did not even catch the tone after his "good." He would have realized, if he had done it, that he was much more impressed than he could see. Iwaizumi even reached the same point as Oikawa.

The violinist ordered a chocolate cake and a single coffee and Oikawa ordered a cheesecake and mango tea. Iwaizumi didn’t invite him to sit with him or to accompany him, but Oikawa did not need that kind of invitation to do it. And Iwaizumi didn't complain either. It was an implicit agreement between them.

They sat in a corner, a table hidden behind a bamboo screen. The atmosphere in that area was quieter and more welcoming. Fine classical music played through the speakers, but not loud enough to be annoying. The tables were decorated with a subtle vase in which a white rose rose. Oikawa ignored how it was possible that such a pleasant place was not better known. Although that might be precisely what made it so special. He could not imagine how they could keep the charm full of the hustle and bustle that people usually made.

"I don't know how you can eat so much sweet" the musician said reluctantly, staring at Oikawa's request.

The dancer raised his chin slightly with pride and a smile on his lips.

"Maybe if you ate that sweet, your character would soften a little, Iwa."

"What did you say?" If gazes could kill, Oikawa would have been killed in that moment.

"Sorry, sorry!" He raised both hands, waving them in front of him. "It was just a joke. But I really like sweet things, always. In fact I can hardly drink coffee because I find it too bitter."

"How weird."

"Why?"

"I thought dancers follow a very strict diet." He shrugged and Oikawa sighed. Actually what the musician said was true. He had been forced to do it without many of his delicious sweets because of the pressure he was subjected to.

"You are not wrong. But I will not become obsessed with it again." He took the candy and brought it to his mouth, taking a small bite. His lips filled with strawberry syrup. "I used to be obsessed with weight and the only way to be the best was to weigh less. After my injury my priorities changed. It doesn’t mean I eat whatever I want whenever I want."

There was a moment of silence between them. Iwaizumi sighed and relaxed his shoulders. He thought it would have bothered him until he spoke again:

"You are the first dancer I know who says that and is sincere." He drunk. Oikawa asked himself how could Iwaizumi like black coffee. "You are also the first famous dancer who starts dancing in the middle of the street with the music of a street artist. Are you upset or just an idiot?"

"Idiot? I've never been this insulted in my life!" He put his hand to his forehead and lay on the seat dramatically.

"You don't listen much, do you?"

"Iwa!"

The conversation between the musician and the dancer flowed as quickly and lightly as the symphony they had both composed in the park. The hours flew by and Oikawa, after long months, outlined in one afternoon the most sincere smiles. If his friends and family had seen him they would not believed it. They talked about trivial things, like Oikawa preferred classical and pop music while Iwaizumi was more into rock and alternative styles. They watched videos in YouTube from a violinist called Lindsey Stirling who fascinated Oikawa; He wondered if he could ever dance her music at the academy. Iwaizumi was not a simple person, that was discovered by the dancer. He often called Oikawa idiot or complained about Oikawa's flirting, but he didn't really bother Iwaizumi. He was rude in a way that Oikawa found strangely warm.

The afternoon passed in a sigh. Oikawa did not go to the psychologist. Instead he spent the night walking under the starry dome with the musician. They were lost on the outskirts of the city and in the middle of the field of Miyagi Iwaizumi played the last time for the dancer.

At twelve o'clock they said goodbye. Their paths separated. Oikawa stood, watching the musician's back, until he was a shadow too far away to recognize him. He turned off the mobile phone in which he now had the brunette's number registered and returned home with renewed energy.

The magic of the dance had returned to him.

✦─────────── • ✧

Or so he thought.

When the next day he entered the academy with more energy than ever, he thought he could move again with that fluidity that characterized him. However, when the notes began to sound his body did not react. Again stiffness seized his joints. Of course each movement was precise and perfect, typical for someone who memorized and performed the piece for months without a moment to relax. But it was not a choreography Oikawa could dance the same way he did the previous afternoon with Iwaizumi’s song.

"Perfect, Oikawa, as always."

Lies.

Oikawa was aware that his dance was not as usual. But his teacher admired his technique, nothing more.

A man any dance passionate would recognize approached the woman. It was Jacques Fontaine, the most important talent scout in the dance world. A positive comment from him and all the doors opened like a hurricane. A negative review and a dancer could say goodbye to his career in one second. At first glance, however, he did not impose at all with his good-natured smile on his face and his round eyes hidden behind thick glass glasses.

"Oikawa, this is Jacques Fontaine." The teacher introduced him, although it was evident to the three of them Jacques did not need any presentation. "He has come because he wanted to see you and, maybe, make you an offer. I’m pretty sure you would…"

The one with the glasses nodded. Oikawa's heart accelerated so much that he could have suffered a heart attack right there. If Jacques Fontaine wanted to see you meant he was interested in you. And an offer could be the springboard for the Olympus of dancing. Oikawa's hands began to sweat and he feared he wanted to shake it.

"It's a pleasure, son." Obviously, Jacques held out his hand and Oikawa had to give it to him. He prayed Jacques wouldn't notice how nervous he was. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I can say the same. Everything fine, of course."

"Mr. Fontaine has told me he was fascinated by your dancing..."

A compliment. A compliment from Jacques Fontaine. The great dance stages. Everything for him. The dream he had been fighting for a lifetime. Oikawa imagined himself dancing even for the England queen!

"However," the famous critic's voice became more serious and Oikawa would swear his body had begun to shake and his dream was reeling, "although it is true your technique is perfect, it is not exceptional as I had heard from some acquaintances of mine. You probably won’t know this, but, I founded a dance company. For now we have not offered any show because we are selecting the team and organizing both the entrepreneurs themselves and our dancers. This company seeks to break with the concept of classical dance that has been brought so far. My dream is to approach classical dance to all audiences, not exclusively to high class people who wear their best clothes to go to an amphitheater to observe a perfectly performed piece. I am looking for free dancers, let's say it that way. I want passionate people, people who are able to convey what they feel with their body. When I heard about you, I thought you were what I need and I decided to approach to see if rumors were true. But if I have to be honest, I have not seen anything exclusively yours. What you have danced is its author piece, not yours. I don't know if I had explained myself clearly."

Of course he had. What Jacques Fontaine was telling him was the same thing that had been in his head for so many years. The same Iwaizumi had mentioned the previous afternoon. A sudden idea crossed his mind. He remembered a part of the conversation he had with Iwaizumi. They talked about the violinist who danced while playing, free, impressing anyone who saw her. His technique was not perfect, but the passion she emanated was authentic and it captivated Oikawa.

Jacques Fontaine sought authenticity, sought passion. He had observed Oikawa dancing one of the most famous pieces in the world. What if he shows him one that had never been danced on a large stage? What if for once he was himself and not who everyone want him to be? What if he broke any choreography and dances with his heart?

_"But, are you having fun?" Iwaizumi asked and put the cup on the plate. His green orbs stuck on the dancer._

_Did he have fun? Yes. Oikawa remembered a time when he had fun. When he discovered the wonderful classical pieces which, with the right technique, created a real wonder. He didn't like when his teacher hit him on the ankles or screams every time he failed. He hated having to learn the choreographies and not flow free like water. But he liked music and dancing._

_"I think so." He took a sip of tea and his gaze wandered the place. He stopped at a flower box which caught his attention. Lavenders again. It seemed in the area they were sacred._

_"Then I can tell you that you don't. If you really have fun, you don't hesitate." His words were resounding. They did not accept any reply. "Just for your knowledge, there was a time when I played for others..."_

_"You? Doing something for others instead of yourself?" Oikawa had to bend down before the sofa cushion the violinist threw at him did not reach him._

_"Shut the fuck up and listen, you, stupid. During that time I did what everyone expected me to do." The boy squeezed the cup between his fingers and kept silent for a few seconds. For the one with brown hair the time became eternal. "I left my violin for a long time, until I sent them all to hell and started playing what I liked. I was kicked out of the academy and the street became my new stage. And, guess what. I enjoyed it as I never had. Because I started composing and playing for myself. People who stood up were because they had the same taste as me. They liked what I played, not because they seemed to be high class or those things. Have you ever been yourself when you dance, Oikawa?"_

Yes. Oikawa had danced to himself when no one was watching. He put Toxic by Britney Spears at three in the morning and danced for the sofa cushions with the most seductive movements he knew. He put Spice Girls Wannabe at full volume and danced while singing. He fell off the couch, but he didn't care. He laughed and sang even louder. He could perfectly remember the feeling of freedom running through his body. He had never had so much fun.

"Let me dance for you just one more time sir," he said suddenly, earning surprised looks from both his teacher and Mr. Fontaine.

The young man approached the computer connected to the speakers, his back perfectly straight. He bent down, tights marking his toned legs, and put YouTube. His teacher's face was a poem when the first notes sounded. Oikawa almost listened her thoughts: He has gone completely mad. Why? Is he really thinking to dance such vulgarity? Yes, there were people who considered a vulgarity composition everything not recognized by a social elite. Oikawa too. At least a few years ago. And, yes, Oikawa might have really gone crazy. But he was willing to accept madness if he could dance freely.

But he had reached the point of no return. In front of him a wall stood. It was a dead end road. If he really wanted to crave, he should try another way. Two steps back, then three forward.

Oikawa reached the center of the room and closed his eyes. Around him there was nothing but darkness. Not the same one enveloping him like in his blackest days, when he thought about ending everything. No, it was liberating. Wrapped in the blackness of his mind, he abandoned his shoes, his ego and everything he had learned in the dance academy. When he opened his eyes again he was no longer in front of his teacher and Mr. Fontaine but in the middle of the mountain where he spent his winter vacations. Around him there was only a thick white blanket sheltering what was once an extensive green meadow. Lindsey Stirling's Take Flight sounded; A high and clear melody. Oikawa moved by impulses, let each note enter through his ears, pass through each fiber of his body and the dancer moved by them. Lindsey's violin became Iwaizumi’s one. In fact, Oikawa saw Iwaizumi in front of him, with his beautiful olive orbs perched on him. Only and exclusively for the dancer, observing him as if he was art. And Oikawa danced. Not for Iwaizumi, not for Jacques Fontaine, but for himself. He slipped through the snow. Oikawa became the breeze that rocked the trees and created a small hurricane where the snowflakes swirled before falling on the ground. At some point Iwaizumi abandoned his violin and approached him. It was placed behind his back. Oikawa smelled Iwaizumi’s aroma which mixed lavender and vanilla. He bit his lower lip when his rough hands caressed the arms of the tallest and ran down his anatomy until he landed on his waist. He approached him until he felt his breath on the back of his neck. And so, together, they both danced, but they were one. One for each other. Until the song reached its last notes.

Oikawa's illusion broke into pieces and he was aware for the first time of where he really was. He recomposed his body and turned to the two people who had been silent witnessing his performance.

It would have been impossible to describe in words the expressions Oikawa found.

Silence invaded them for a few seconds until Jacques Fontaine spoke.

✦─────────── • ✧

When he left the academy he looked at Iwaizumi's phone number. The photograph taken the previous day as his contact image. Oikawa was running his arm around Iwaizumi's shoulders. With one hand he was holding the phone while the other was doing the victory sign and sticking out his tongue. The violinist, meanwhile, was frowning and looking at Oikawa with annoyance.

He called.

There was no answer from the musician.

But Oikawa knew very well where he would find him. So he threw the bag behind him and ran everything his legs allowed him to reach that small and hidden park in Miyagi.

Like the previous day, he found the boy in the hidden corner. He kept the violin and Oikawa supposed he had just finished for the day.

"Iwaaaaa!" He shouted, not caring about all the people who stared at him.

He threw himself on the musician, pulling him, and falling over Iwaizumi.

"What the fuck hat are you doing Shittykawa!? Are you crazy or what the fuck!?" Oikawa ignored his insults and sat astride his thighs.

"I have done it!" Said the almond-eyed one.

"Yes, you have broken my rib and I will break your face as you do not get rid of it right now." The dancer exuded happiness, but he knew everything would evaporate instantly if Iwaizumi fulfilled his threat. And he was capable of it. So he got up and held out his hand to help him up.

Once both were standing they sat on the bench where Iwaizumi had kept his violin.

"What have you done?" Iwaizumi asked after. It took only a few minutes, but for the dancer was an eternity.

"I have been myself." He laughed so sincerely that Hanamaki would have been proud of him. He leaned back and stared at the bright blue sky. A breeze shook his hair. "Today I have been rejected of the best work I could never have, you know?"

"Tell me why it makes you happy because I am starting to think you are crazy."

Again the boy laughed. Curiously, his laugh didn't bother Iwaizumi. He wouldn't mind if he never stopped listening to it. It was much better than hearing him complain about being a soulless dancer.

"After he rejected me, I thought… Fuck everything. If I can dance only one more time I want to show Jacques Fontaine a piece of myself. So I put that violinist you taught me yesterday. Yes, Lindsey, that one. Which song? The first one you showed me. And I danced. I danced Lindsey Stirling for the most important critic in the world." Saying it out loud made the dancer's laugh grow even greater. Iwaizumi denied to himself, but did not interrupt him. He was definitely crazy. "I've never been so happy dancing, Iwa. I was myself! The music and I were one. I think I can't describe that feeling with words. Let's say it was just magic. It was like yesterday, when I danced with your song. And… After that Jacques Fontaine approached me and said: I have never seen anyone dance this way, so full of passion. And he offered me the main dancer in his company. But I put a condition."

Iwaizumi, who had taken a bottle of water, spat all the liquid on the grass. It bathed the ground under the bench.

"What the fuck? What the fuck have you done?!"

"I had to." Insisted Oikawa. He crossed his legs on the bench and turned to his partner. "Iwa, I can't dance without you."

"Sorry?"

"I asked Jacques you to be part of the orchestra."

This time it was Iwaizumi who laughed out loud. He ended up crying with laughter and picked up a handkerchief to wipe away the tears.

"You are joking, aren't you?" When Oikawa didn't change his serious countenance, he realized that he didn't. "No, wait. This is not a fucking joke. You really want me to play for the most important guy in this world. Wait, wait, wait. No, no, no, no. Besides, I already told you I wanted to play for myself. Playing with you it is not part of my plans."

"Precisely for that." Oikawa raised his hand to stop his speech. He already knew what Iwaizumi was going to say. "The company founded by Jacques intends to show music and dance in a way never seen before. He wants freedom, passion. You are that. You could compose freely. While you are yourself, transmitting your emotions, Jacques will like it. Iwa please. Thanks to you I have recovered the most important of my life. I can't do this without you."

The shorter one raised his hand to his forehead, incredulous. Oikawa must be joking. Yes, it was impossible he really offered such an offer, to him, a stranger. However, in those almond-shaped eyes he saw a determination so absolute that it made him laugh. Because, fuck, yes, he was completely serious. It was not a joke.

"Oh fuck, I am going to regret this shit. But... Okay. Let's go where the music takes us."

✦─────────── • ✧

The performance ended and they received a burst of applause and cheers. The main square in New York had never witnessed such a public dance show. The dancers who made up Jacques Fontaine's company lined up and bowed to their spectators. They all shone. Not thanks to the light that the luminous signs threw, nor to the mobile phones that had recorded them. No. They shone due to the sweat of their passion. All had danced with a unique style, guided by an orchestra perfectly in tune.

A group of young children ran to the main dancer, with vibrant eyes.

"It was awesome, sir!" The aforementioned winked at them and bent down to keep up with the children.

"Thank you very much, I'm glad you liked it. Will you come next time we act?" The two children nodded and asked to take a picture.

As soon as they finished they looked at the phone (surely from their parents) and ran out screaming they had got an image with the “coolest dancer in the world”.

"You are also the most egocentric dancer in the world." Said a voice behind Oikawa's back and his smile widened because he knew very well who it belonged to.

He turned around and found a boy in a turquoise shirt and white pants, and his usual frown. In his hands he held the violin which had conquered an audience that was already beginning to disperse. Now they were only Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

"I know, thanks." Oikawa approached the boy and circled his neck with both arms.

"It wasn't a compliment, you know?" Protested Iwaizumi, who did not resist the nearness of the tallest.

"We have been working together for two years and also two dating," he reminded Iwaizumi and they were so close that the violinist felt his boyfriend's breath on his lips. Of course, what he most wanted at that moment was to take him by the wrist, take him to the first intimate place they found and kiss his lips until neither of them could go on. "I have learned that calling me egocentric is your way to telling me how much do you like me."

"I hate you.

"You love me."

"You are insufferable."

"And you still kiss me every night when you think I am asleep."

"Fucking idiot."

"But your idiot."

Iwaizumi did not protest again. He closed his mouth and instead of adding nothing else he joined his partner's lips. The boy who had known between lavenders and vanilla in a lost corner of the city, when he was going through one of his worst moments. The person who had offered him the job of his dreams, the relationship he needed without even knowing it, and the happiest years of his life. The man with whom he had been traveling and triumphing all over the world for three years with his spectacles full of emotion. They kissed in the middle of the square and Iwaizumi couldn't care less about the people watching them. Oikawa's lips had become addictive to him, but he would never recognize it. Enough ego Oikawa had already. However, he knew Oikawa had it very present, because every time they saw each other, after each performance, Iwaizumi ended up on his lips for long minutes.

"Do you remember what you told me that day?" Oikawa asked as they strolled down Fifth Avenue.

"That you are an idiot and you are crazy." The taller man rolled his eyes and shoved him with his shoulder.

"No, the other."

He pretended to think about it, although the truth was that Iwaizumi remembered every day what he said. The words that changed his life forever. Well, not only his. Because thanks to them Oikawa regained passion, smile and his life.

"Let's go where the music takes us."

Oikawa curved his lips, satisfied.

"What do you think about that?" He asked, looking sideways at him.

"I think..." Iwaizumi covered his mouth with the red scarf; the one Oikawa gave him when they performed in Barcelona. "We are better when we let music guide us and we don't think so much. Anyway... I guess I want to keep playing... whenever it's by your side."

"Forever?"

The first snowflakes began their descent over the couple of artists who had stopped in the middle of the street. People passed by without looking at them; they were only two young people in love visiting the city. Iwaizumi watched his joined hands, Oikawa's delicate fingers. A ring on them was not necessary for everyone to know that that idiot belonged to him. Just like he belonged to the idiot.

"Forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading. I hope you'd enjoyed it.
> 
> You can find me on Twitter: @stanfukurodani.


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